


Grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

by apreciouspixie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Top!Harry, War AU, a really cute ot5 cuddling scene oh man, bottom!Louis, but erm, self-indulgent af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apreciouspixie/pseuds/apreciouspixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis doesn't want to be a warrior and Harry does. They're young and dumb and subconsciously in love.</p><p>or a story of two young men in the middle of a monster invasion, fighting for the human race and most of all, each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

**Author's Note:**

> a million thank yous to my beta Pinja, and my moral supporters Alexis and Bex.  
> i would be meaningless without you, and this fic wouldn't even exist. also Ellie and Nanet and Tess and Niamh and wow okay this is turning into a thank you speech. but i mean it sort is one so yeah thank you for reading!!! yaay! 
> 
> also because it can get a bit tricky - they live in a tiny village and there's a war going on, the human race is almost extinct so on so on. xx.
> 
> title from Mumford & Sons' song After The Storm

Louis has never liked the idea of warriors and such. He likes his quiet life with his mum and sisters in their little human town. But he knows he’ll soon have to go off and be a soldier.

He has been outside before, on small trips. Treks to the woods to kill things and raids to monsters’ towns, but he thinks he just isn’t warrior material.  
Maybe he would be: he’s quite good with guns and even better at gun fighting, and he’s small and quick, has never been caught by surprise in a spar. But the whole idea, the legends and the stories that go with warriors, simply doesn’t click with him. He doesn’t like the “chosen one” stuff and the legends of warrior-duos, the most legendary packs of soldiers that range their world.

Ever since he was a child his mother has told him stories of brave women and men that search the world for monsters and kill them to help save humans. And for as long as he remembers, she has told him one day he will be one of them, hopefully with a companion just as mighty as him by his side.

Louis grimaces at the idea. Why can’t he stay where he is, have a quiet and peaceful family-life like the people in their village? He remembers asking his mum once, and she answering “because it’s tradition.” Louis had been at the height of his puberty back then, and the fight that they had had lasted for days. Now they don’t talk about those things anymore, except for when Jay reminds Louis he needs to leave soon.

 

He first meets Harry on a cold day when he’s walking in the forest. He should be gathering fire-wood, but he takes his time with everything, if it means he can stay away from home for a bit.

They bump into each other, both collecting wood, and sit down for a break. Turns out Harry lives just a few houses from Louis, but they never noticed each other.  
            “So, uh, do you like it around here?” Harry asks after they’ve exchanged courtesies. He seats himself on a log, stretching out his legs. Louis takes a seat on the ground a few feet from him and answers Harry’s question with a quiet not and “yeah.” He does like it there, but still feels uncomfortable with the stranger.

It seems though, that Harry doesn’t feel strange at all. He talks about his family and friends. They find out most of their friends are mutual, but it’s a rarity to have strangers, like Harry and Louis, in a small village like theirs.  
   
What starts off as small talk slowly escalates onto deeper, meaningful matters about life and the war. Louis tells Harry he doesn’t like the idea of warriors, or at least the idea of being one. He’s surprised at how passionate Harry is about the same thing, though. Turns out Harry finds it most wonderful, especially the duos, “warrior-pairs that work together like clockwork.” He goes on and on about destiny and how he wishes he would one day meet someone like that, and for the first time, Louis doesn’t see the idea as horrible. Childish, but not horrible.

Harry says he thinks those soldiers that travel together are like soulmates, that their spirits are woven together and that’s why the work so well. Louis laughs at him and Harry pouts, and it feels like they’ve known each other for a lifetime.

The awkwardness has long disappeared, warmth taking its place. Louis watches as Harry stays quiet for a while, admiring the treetops, and thinks he likes the boy. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he makes him feel safe, somehow.

Eventually they do have to collect the fire-wood and head back, but Harry promises Louis they’ll meet up again, to talk some more. Louis smiles, not because he’s happy he’s made a friend, but because he’s sorry for Harry. Light-hearted people don’t make it far in wars, he thinks.

They don’t meet again until a week later, when Louis’ sitting at the market-place with his friends and Harry sees them. He jogs to them and sits down next to Louis. After an hour of talking Louis thinks his mates like Harry more that he does.

Harry and Louis leave together, so Zayn and Liam stay behind, watching as the two young men walk into the distance.  
Liam nudges Zayn’s arm slightly, and swinging his legs over the edge of the log-fence they’re sitting on, turns to him,  
            “What do you think those two’ll end up as?”  
Zayn shrugs, puffing out a breath of laughter when he sees Harry’s hand swing against Louis’ in the distance,  
            “Dunno, mate. But it’s gonna be the greatest or the worst thing we’ve ever seen, I tell ya.”  
They stay quiet for a while, giggling at the toddler wailing around on the ground trying to catch chicken. Zayn suddenly jumps off the fence, and turns to Liam,  
            “You know what I think?”  
Liam raises his eyebrows, jumping next to Zayn,  
            “I think Niall would know,” the lad finishes, “He always does.”

Soon enough Harry becomes a regular in Louis’ life because Zayn and Liam approve of him and despite his attitude telling another story, Louis’ likes him, really does. And if he feels like kissing him every once in a while it’s just those damn lips and if sometimes he wants to hold his hand it’s just how nice and delicate his fingers are, nothing else, no way.

One night everything falls apart.  
Louis comes running to Zayn’s house, shaking, his cheeks wet from tears. It takes almost an hour before he says anything, but when he does Zayn isn’t surprised. He knew something of the kind was bound to happen.

Apparently Harry has left. He’d been planning it for weeks, but he didn’t want to tell anybody. He only decided to tell Louis at the last minute, and then he did it in the worst way imaginable. He took Louis to the place they’d first met and talked about how amazing Louis is and how he’s his best friend. Louis, who had been subconsciously in love with the boy since the day they met had kissed him and Harry had kissed him back. But when Louis had told him he loves Harry he’d just said “but I’m leaving,” and left.

It isn’t surprising, none of it, and Zayn isn’t even mad at Harry. He’s only eighteen years old, and Louis may be two years older but even if he thinks himself strong and independent he is one of the most infantile, fragile people Zayn knows. He is strong, and he is independent, but he falls apart too easily. And Harry is just too young to understand.

When he comes back two weeks later, saying he might want to stay for a little while, they ignore each other. Zayn ignores harry as well, despite the fact he feels bad for the boy, but he has to choose a side, and Louis’ been his best friend for as long as he can remember.

Unsurprisingly, the outer-world had been much scarier than Harry had thought, so he decides to stay home longer. Not more than a month, but enough time to prepare himself emotionally and tie any loose ends he’s got.

One of the loose ends is Louis. All attempts to talk to him are turned upside-down by Jay or Louis’ friends, though, and with each passing day, Harry’s getting more desperate.

Finally, on a windy night, with fog so thick he can barely see his feet, Harry decides to get it done once and for all. He makes his way to the Tomlinson’s hut, and knocks. Once, twice, thrice, but there is no answer.  
            “Louis?” He bangs his hand on the door. Still, there’s no answer.  
            “Stop it, you fuckin’ idiot!” A familiar voice suddenly calls from behind him. Harry turns around and sees Louis’ standing there, hands on his hips.  
            “What exactly do you think you’re doing, it’s ten o’clock! They’re asleep!”  
Harry shrugs, but Louis sighs and steps closer to him, hands falling to his sides.  
            “What do you want, Harry?”  
            “You,” Harry holds out his hand, wanting to touch Louis, but Louis pulls away.  
            “Well I haven’t got time, and you’re leaving anyway.”  
            “You could come with me.”  
Louis laughs at that.  
            “And leave my family? You know what, just- just leave!” Desperation is slowly culling the nonchalance in his voice.  
Harry touches Louis’ wrist gently, frowning, and sighs,  
            “I just wanna talk to you. I missed you, Louis, I missed you a lot, and I really think you could come with me.”  
Louis shakes his head and pushes past Harry,  
            “Harry, you can’t just barge in expecting me to do whatever you say. I have a life, you know!”  
            “You’d be safer with me.”  
Louis stops mid-step and turns to harry, grimacing.  
            “Safer? Are you some kind of a super-soldier now? Am I your damsel in distress? Thank you very much, darling,” he’s entirely mocking Harry now, “But no.”  
Harry watches as Louis storms to the door, unlocks it, gets inside and closes the door again. He listens as the lock clicks to place. He holds his hand out, as if he can make Louis come back, but the door stays closed. Harry stands there for much longer than necessary, rubbing his hands and hugging himself to keep warm, yet refusing to leave.

Louis discards his clothes in one swift movement and falls to bed immediately. He pushes his face deep into the pillow and screams.  
            “I hate you so fucking much, Harry Styles,” he mutters as he turns onto his back.

Why did he have to come? Couldn’t he just have ignored Louis and left? And that’s not even the worst part, he actually expected Louis to go with him.  
As if Louis is a toy, as if he’s a thing Harry can take with him just because.  
            “No, no, no,” Louis thinks, wrapping the blanket more tightly around him.  
The thoughts of going away with Harry crawl out from underneath his bed slowly, like a nightmare.

The next morning Louis wakes up to screaming and the smell of fire. He runs outside, only to see the monsters’ havoc. They’ve come at night, killing some and taking with them half a dozen. The villagers do all they can, and are victorious in small numbers, once the monsters’ raids continue, but by the fourth day, most people are ready to leave.

Including Harry, but excluding Louis.

Harry’s in his car already, packing up final things hastily when he hears a scream somewhere off. He’d ignore it, but the clench in his heart at the familiarity of the voice get the best of him, so he takes his gun and runs off to where the sound had come from.

To his resentment, his gut feeling is right.  
Louis is pressed against a wall, frantically poking the man above him with his knife. The monster is immune to his actions though, because of the plate of thick leather covering his body. Harry aims his gun, smirking, knowing he’s not immune to bullets.

The bullet flies from the gun with a bang, and the man is halfway to turning around when it hits him in his back. He falls onto the ground, leaving Louis to stare in astonishment. He looks up soon, and sees Harry.  
            “Y-you- thanks, Harry.”  
            “It’s my duty, innit.” Harry speaks lowly, stepping closer to Louis. He might’ve saved the man’s life for now, but he’s not going to let him go, knowing how dangerous it can get.  
            “Come here, Louis.”  
Louis frowns at him.  
            “What?”  
            “You’re coming with me.”  
Louis crosses his arms over his chest, and admonishes through his teeth,  
            “No, I’m not.”  
            “Yes, you are.”  
            “Harry, you can’t-”

Harry grasps Louis’ wrist and begins pulling him away.  
            “Let go of me!” Louis yells, struggling to free his arm from Harry’s grip.  
            “I can’t leave you, Louis.” Harry stops mid-step and turns to look at Louis.  
            “I have to keep you near me, otherwise you’ll get in trouble. I mean, you see what almost happened!”  
            “Jesus, Harry, I’m a grown-up, yeah? You don’t need to fucking babysit me!” Louis pulls harder than before, but still can’t get away.  
            “I’m sorry Louis; I can’t leave you on your own.”  
            “Harry, I-” Louis contests Harry’s words, but Harry turns his head away and pulls Louis along. Louis sighs dramatically, and stumbles after Harry.  
            “At least tell me where we’re going,” he charges once more.  
            “To my car,” Harry remains passive. Louis grimaces, and follows him bitterly.

He knows it’s safer to go with Harry, but the thought of having to spend time with him, be away from his family, all those things already without the war going on around them scare him. And now he won’t even get to say goodbye to his mum and sisters, never mind Zayn.

As Harry’s car - a van, precisely - emerges from the horizon Louis lets out another sigh,  
            “Are you planning on locking me up and using me as a sex slave?”  
Harry turns his head to him, misunderstanding in his face,  
            “What are you going on about?”  
            “You have a dirty, white van, love. That doesn’t seem exactly decent.”  
If he has to do this, Louis thinks, at least he’ll have fun making fun of Harry.  
            “It’s just a car,” Harry grumbles.  
They reach the vehicle, and Harry holds out his hand.  
            “I understand we’re both very attractive and what not, but you can’t expect me to just give myself to you! Don’t think so well of yourself, boy.” Louis crosses his arms, smirking at Harry’s gaucherie.  
            “Give me your knife,” he grunts, uninterested in Louis’ banter.  
            “And now he expects me to give him my source of safety! What a perv!” Louis hollers and walks to the passenger-seat’s door.  
            “You know, when I first met you I quite liked you, now I understand it was all just a false demeanour to lure me into your twisted games!” he scoffs, sitting down. Harry gives him a tired look through the window, but opens the door then, and sits down.  
            “Where to, you nuisance?” he maintains an uninterested state of mind. Louis shrugs, and thinks about saying “wherever your secret lab is, oh scary paedophile-mad-scientist-pervert-rapist,” but gives the boy some peace.  
            “I thought you were a rogue? A wanderer who goes where his heart wishes?” he emphasizes each word, gesticulating along with his hands.  
Harry pries at louis from the corner of his eye, smiling slowly. “Oh, we’re gonna have a lot of fun,” he thinks, realises that actually did make him sound like a pervert, and breaks into a grin. Louis doesn’t miss it.  
            “What?”  
            “Nothing, just a funny thought.”  
            “Well then, I want to laugh too.”  
            “You sound like my mother.”  
Louis rolls his eyes and stays shut for a little while.

They drive until it’s dark, mostly in silence. Harry tries to pick up radio signals, but it’s hard, especially with Louis scoffing and slagging every few minutes.  
The sun is setting when they reach a plain and Harry drives onto it, not caring about ruining the countryside. He unlocks the doors and turns to Louis,  
            “Look, I see you’re mad at me, but you have to understand.”  
Louis nods slowly,  
            “You could’ve let me say goodbye to my Mum... and pack some stuff, too, I guess.”  
Harry opens the door, but doesn’t walk out yet. He opens his mouth, but not knowing what to say shuts himself again and steps out instead. He thinks he knows what he would have said. Either that they can go back soon, or that he didn’t want to leave Louis. He really would have wanted to say the last one, he thinks.

They climb into the back, Louis whining about having to spend the night in a small space with Harry. “Harry and his noodle-limbs,” he puts it.

He is right, though, the space is quite small. There are shelves on all four walls, except for two little holes that let some light inside. The air is attenuated, the four torch-lights in the corners lighting the room dimly. A thick, smudgy mattress lays in the middle, a mess off two pillows and a blanket covering the replacement needing bed-sheet.

Louis sits down on the bed and pulls the blanket around him. He cautiously removes his trousers, feeling awkward in front of Harry. Harry must notice, for he sits out the trap-door and busies himself with sharpening his knives.

When he clambers back inside, Louis is lying under the duvet, staring at him intently. Harry almost asks him if something is wrong, but turns his head away instead and moves to take off his trousers. It’s warm in the room, and he knows with another body under the cover it will be even more so, so he wants to take off his t-shirt too, but refrains, knowing Louis will be more comfortable that way.

As soon as Harry lies down next to Louis, the man presses himself to the corner of the mattress, turning away from him. Harry looks at his stiff form, and can’t help but chuckle,  
             “No need to be afraid of me, Louis.”  
Louis turns around, and inches closer to harry.  
             “’M not afraid of you!”  
Harry smiles, motioning for Louis to come closer,  
              “Get here then,” he giggles.  
Louis squints at him, but rolls over anyway. He lies on his back, and when he turns his head Harry’s face is only a few inches from his.  
The coldness from before disappears as suddenly as it had appeared in the first place.       

Fatigue kicks in like medications, soon, and they fall asleep with Louis’ feet thrown over Harry’s, the backs of their hands touching and when Harry wakes up the next morning Louis’ cheek is pressed against his side, but he slips out so Louis never knows.

It works like that, for a while.

Louis bantering, giving Harry shit about the smallest things, thinking it’ll hide just how scary this whole situation is for him.  
For example whenever they pass abandoned villages, some burnt to the ground, or when they see people on their way, wounded and helpless. Children playing between bodies, not understanding what is really going on.  
Anyone would be frightened by the sights, but somehow they affect Louis especially. And he copes by fooling around, playing an idiot.  
  
Harry copes by rolling his eyes along and bearing Louis, and resting his hand on the small of his back each night, when he’s whimpering quietly into the pillow.

Time passes.  
It’s not important just how much of it, but it’s enough time for Louis to notice the looks Harry gives him, the mixture of worry and fondness in his eyes.  
It’s also enough time for Harry to realise Louis smiles at him a bit more often, and more knowingly cuddles against him at night.

Then one evening, after a particularly rough day, when they collapse onto the mattress, exhaustion filling up every crease and corner, Louis shamelessly wraps his arms around Harry when he’s lying on the bed, on his front. Harry only has enough room so he can turn his head and peek at Louis through the corner of his eye. He smiles and wiggles his arm under their bodies to touch Louis’ hand.

Louis’ eyes are closed, his nose pressed tightly against the nape of Harry’s neck. He’s breathing so steadily that for a moment harry thinks he’s asleep, but when he hears (or rather feels) him humming quietly, he knows he’s still awake.

Harry knows they’ll both be uncomfortable soon, what with Louis’ hands squeezed under Harry’s body and Harry squeezed under Louis, but it’s warm, and whatever it is Louis is humming is relaxing.

If only he could move himself, Harry thinks, he could kiss Louis. He really wants to kiss Louis.  
Turns out Louis’ thinking the same, because just then he raises his head, and still keeping his eyes closed presses his lips against Harry’s. A tad bit to the left, but Harry angles his head and soon they’re kissing lazily. There’s no need for tongues or teeth, just lips moving together slowly, as if sealing a deal. A deal that “yes, despite everything, I do trust you, and I do want to be here with you.”  
They sign the paper by entwining their fingers afterwards, and falling asleep on top of each other.

The next morning isn’t nearly as awkward as Harry had expected. It’s actually a lot less awkward than mornings before have been. Louis’ giggly and loud, and when they’re collecting wood in the forest, to make a fire later, he holds Harry’s hand a bit more than necessary.  
Harry’s definitely not complaining, though.

They make it back to the meadow they’re staying at and lay the pieces of wood they found in a heap near Harry’s car. Harry pulls the mattress from the car, and they lie on it, enjoying the peace and quiet of the wind calmly pushing along the clouds high above.

Their heads are close together, bodies moving apart gradually. Harry suddenly points at something in the sky, sniggering,  
            “Look at that cloud!”  
Louis looks to where harry is pointing, but doesn’t see anything at first.  
Harry shakes his finger in the direction,  
            “Look, that one! It looks like a penis.”  
Louis breaks into a over-the-top laugh before even actually seeing the cloud. Harry laughs with him, still wiggling his finger towards the cloud.  
            “You’re an idiot,” Louis mutters through his laughter, and Harry nods along, agreeing jokingly. They calm down after a while, and go back to watching clouds. It’s livelier now, they point out things to each other constantly.

            “I cannot believe me eyes!”  
Both Harry and Louis are startled up from where they’re lying. Harry goes to grab the gun from beside them on the ground and Louis pulls his knife out from its sheath.  
            “Hey, hey, nothing to worry ‘bout, lads! ‘S just me, good old Niall!”  
And it is.

It’s Niall goddamn Horan, their mutual long lost friend that disappeared about a year ago. Harry and Louis of course didn’t know each other back then, but they knew Niall all right.  
He stumbles through the field to them, and throws down his guns. Harry’s hand makes a small instinctive motion towards the guns, but apparently Niall doesn’t have a problem with throwing dangerous weapons.  
            “Wait.” Louis, still holding up his knife, stands closer to Niall. He looks him deep in the eyes, then smiles slowly.  
            “You really are Niall.”  
            “I really am.”  
They’re laughing then, holding each other tight, welcoming back an old friend. Niall breaks away soon, with a beam on his face, eyes full of excitement.  
            “Wait a sec.”  
He storms up the meadow, leaving Harry and Louis reminiscing old memories of the “good old Niallator”  
            “Oi, Harry, Louis, look who I have!” Niall’s voice echoes over the meadow, making the called fellows turns their heads. Niall is standing at the foot of the plain, none other than Zayn and Liam next to him, waving.

Louis stares at them for a moment, then runs and tackles Zayn with all his might. They collapse on the ground, a giggling heap of partners in crime. Louis presses a sticky smooch onto Zayn’s cheek, and suddenly they’re being pulled up and into a big group cuddle by the other men.  
They hug for a while, tottering around, holding onto each other tight.

 

By the time it’s darkening they’re huddled on the mattress, Zayn, Liam, and Niall sharing two blankets for the three of them, and Harry and Louis sharing their blanket.  
            “So, Harry,” Niall suddenly breaks their long-lasting silence by turning abruptly.  
            “Don’t think we don’t see ya two! Cuddling like lovebirds or what?”

Harry pulls a face at him,  
            “What on earth do you mean?”  
Louis pulls a face at him, too,  
            “What’s it matter, anyway?”

Niall looks at them warily for a second, then turns to Zayn an Liam,  
            “Do you know anything about this?”  
Zayn shrugs, but side-eyes Louis knowingly, and Liam shakes his head slowly.  
            “Oi,” Niall straightens his back, frowning, “Tell me what’s up with these two!”

Zayn sits up, ready to say something, but Harry’s already at it,  
            “We-” he looks at Louis expectantly, not knowing what to call _it_. They haven’t talked anything through yet.  
Louis looks back at Harry, then at the boys. A hectic silence hangs for a second, then Louis gesticulates a carefree, over-the-top shrug, and jests,  
            “We kissed, and dunno.”

The other three lads eye them sceptically from where they’re sitting. Finally, Zayn says what he had been wanting to,  
            “What about, you know, before Harry left?”  
            “What about it?” Louis wiggles his eyebrows.  
Zayn rolls his eyes.  
            “You know, Lou, Zayn told me,” Liam doesn’t look up, instead picks on his fingernails.  
            “So?” Louis crosses his arms, “What’s the deal with you lot?”  
He pushes the blanket off him, so his upper body is uncovered, (except for his shirt), and examines Zayn and Liam thoroughly. Liam looks up, shrugs, and they fall into a silence again.

The silence drags for much longer than needed or expected, until Niall, who’d been quietly sitting, observing the boys’ conversation, stands up.  
            “I think we need music. Do you think that, too, mates?”  
Harry basically bursts up from next to Louis, and jogs to Niall.  
            “Yes, of course.”  
Maybe it’s not a good idea, maybe it is.

Harry’s leaning on Niall’s car, while Niall rummages in the trunk to find his guitar, when he speaks up,  
            “Harry, what was that about, ya know, earlier?”  
Harry sighs,  
            “You’ve been gone for too long, Niall. You missed all the drama.”  
Niall pulls his head out, eyebrows high on his forehead,  
            “Drama? Spill.”  
            “Uhm,” Harry spins his hands in front of his chest, not sure what to say, “I don’t know really, I didn’t know it was such a big deal. Like, back home, yeah? Before I left, Louis and I kissed, and then, I don’t know, man.”  
            “Oh, I knew it! You lot didn’t even know each other, but I knew you’d end up together somehow! You’re like, the dream team, you two. You know, a warrior-duo, or something.”  
Harry giggles.  
            “Louis would slap you. He hates that stuff. Anyways, so, like, a lot of stuff happened, and I, like, unintentionally kidnapped Lou? And then now we’re here, but we like, kissed last night, and now it’s been like, nice, you know, we just haven’t talked about it? Because it’s nothing serious, and that’s why I don’t get what Zayn and Li are going on about, you know.” He trails off, watching Louis, Zayn, and Liam in the distance, debating about something.  
            “’D you know what I think? I think we get back down there now, yeah, and have a fun night. Like, a good ol’ party, eh? When was the last time you sat at a fire with your mates and sang stupid songs?”  
Harry turns to look at him, and sees Niall, gleaming eyes and shining teeth, holding up his guitar, a promising smile covering his face. He’s always been too optimistic for his own good, but then again he needs to be, to even out the others’ pessimism.

They go back to the others, and sit down, next to each other now. Zayn, Liam, and Louis have crammed to one corner of the mattress, so that gives them some space. Niall picks on his guitar a little, and they pick up a tune after a while.

Liam is the first to hum along, Louis and Zayn joining in. They’ve sang before, not all five of them together, but it’s not a surprise they sound nice. Soon Liam is beat boxing and Niall rapping. Or trying to, at least.

 

 

The stars are high up in the sky, and five young men are lying on a grimy mattress in the middle of a meadow; a fire, long forgotten, cracking a few feet from them.The lads are laughing, recalling memories of their home town.  
            “Oh, she was a killer,” Niall wheezes about the ninety-something beggar who would sit near the market-place and scare off children.

            “But d’you remember that old man, from the camp we went to the other day? The passionate one,” Liam raises his head to look at Niall.  
Niall grimaces at him,  
            “It better be gone by tomorrow, I tell ya!” He growls, imitating the old man’s tone.

They laugh some more, and tell each other stories of what they’ve seen. Their themes gravitate to deeper waters, and soon they’re speaking of the legends that go with the war.

            “Are you quite finished?” Louis raises his eyebrows at Harry, when he drones on about this one particular legend. Harry pouts at Louis, shutting up in the middle of the sentence.  
            “I know you hate that stuff, Lou, but like, isn’t it cool? Think about it!” He smiles at Louis, waiting for a response, but when he doesn’t get one, turns to the other three.  
            “What do you think? Do you believe in soulmates, Zayn?”  
Zayn lets out a sharp breath through his nose, mimicking a laugh,  
            “Sometimes I do, you know, but not like, like that,” he shrugs, and watches the stars. The boys look at zayn, waiting for something. After all, Zayn’s always been one for words. He finally inhales and turns to Harry,  
            “I think sometimes people just have a good effect on each other. Sort of like, when I was a kid, my mum told me about this legend or idea, that we are like, divided into two parts, so there’s the- the protectors, yeah, and the saviours.  
            The saviours are like, the ones that push along and are strong and stuff, yeah? And the protectors are the protectors, they protect. And with soulmates it’s just, a protector and a saviour. You get it?”  
He turns to the boys from where he was gazing the stars, and notices Liam and Niall nodding along with him thoughtfully, but pays little attention to them as he sees Harry and Louis.

They’re sitting up, and Louis’ gaping at him, tears brimming in his eyes. Harry is holding Louis hand, staring at Louis intently. Louis smiles slowly and blinks, so the tears spill onto his cheeks. He wipes them with the sleeve of his jacket.

            “Harry, Louis? You alright, bros?”  
Louis starts nodding frantically, licking his lips. Harry finally looks at Zayn too, and insinuates a quiet “yeah.”  
            “What happened, I just said like, a bunch of gibberish.”  
Liam and Niall look at the couple, perplexed expressions on their faces.  
Louis looks at Harry and smiles, and Harry peeks Louis from the corner of his eye. He shrugs at Zayn, his eyes falling hazy suddenly. He scrunches his nose, and begins opening his mouth. He yawns wide and stretches his back, then slouches back to how he was before. All the while, Louis is smiling at him affectionately.  
            “D’you wanna sleep, babe?” he rubs his thumb over Harry’s hand. Harry nods. Louis looks up at the boys and states matter-of-factly,  
            “Well, boys, scooch over, Hazza here is tired. You all know how he gets when we don’t let him sleep,” he yawns slightly, “I’m actually quite sleepy, too, so- who’s up for a big cuddle-pile?”

Niall perks up immediately, ready to form a pile in a moment,  
            “Me!”  
Liam and Zayn look at each other worryingly, but join the other three anyway.

Harry is lying on one side, Louis’ head resting on his hand, his face pressed against his chest. Niall’s arm is thrown over Louis’ waist, resting between Harry’s and Louis’ bodies. Zayn holds onto Niall’s forearm, spooning him from a distance. Finally, Liam’s arm is snaked under Zayn’s neck, his other hand against his back.

They’re almost asleep, satisfied under the blanket Liam threw over all of them on the last minute, when suddenly Niall wiggles between Louis and Zayn and turns around.  
            “Liam, Zayn,” he moves closer to them and whispers something. Zayn smiles, but closes his eyes again, and ignores Liam and Niall. Liam, on the other hand, raises his eyebrows at Niall, nodding in earnest. Niall turns onto his back, and they’re silent.  
            “Louis and Harry,” Niall utters, and looks at them. Me gets a “mmph” from the two, allowing him to go on.  
            “Louis would be a saviour, right?”  
Before anyone can answer, Liam interrupts,  
            “And Harry’d be a protector.”

No one says anything after that, but Louis cranes his neck and looks at the two boys. His eyes are shiny in the moonlight, and he smiles. He turns back, looks at harry, and nods. Harry winks at Niall and Liam over Louis’ head, and that’s the end of that

Harry wakes up the next morning with the sun high up in the sky, Louis breathing steadily against his arm. He gently raises Louis off him, and sits up. Zayn, Liam, and Niall are gone. He gets of the mattress, wraps the blanket tightly around Louis and puts his knife and gun near the lad, in case he needs them.

Harry takes his own gun, and walks up the meadow, wondering where the lads are at. Niall’s car is gone, as well. Harry walks around for a bit, hoping to find his friends, but when there is no sign of them, he returns to his van, and Louis.

Louis’ still asleep. As Harry sits down next to him and strokes his hair softly, he remembers what Zayn had said last night. He thinks about the saviours and the protectors, and concludes he likes the idea. At least if he gets to protect Louis. And Louis being his saviour makes him feel giddy, too.

He presses a kiss against Louis’ temple, and coos his name sweetly. Louis shuffles slightly, but stays seemingly asleep. Harry pinches his cheek lightly, and ruffles his hair.  
            “Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty.”  
Louis groans, but opens his eyes.

He sits up only after Harry spends three minutes rubbing his hands and tickling him. When he does he highly unamused.  
            “Where’s the lads?” he scratches his eyes lightly, stretching and cracking his back.  
Harry shrugs and stands up.  
            “Dunno, their cars gone and all, but if it’d been monsters we’d be gone as well, so- I suppose they just left.”  
            “Oh,” Louis frowns, and scrambles off the mattress.

They situate the mattress back in the car, wash themselves and eat, and head off, god knows where.

They’ve been driving for a little while, when Louis, who’d been aimlessly turning the radio nob, manages to pick up a seemingly military message, about a group of monsters hunting, not far away in the North-West from them.  
Louis supposes they could go and check it out, play a hero for a little, but Harry notes it could be a trap. It’s not every day you stumble on messages like that. It could easily be that the monsters meant for someone human to hear it.  
            “Well then we’ll go and contradict the trap, make it one for them.”  
Harry chuckles, and heads for the place the monsters are at, approximately, on the next turn-around.  
They keep a wary watch on the sides of the road as they drive further into an old, demolished city.  Louis holds onto his gun a little tighter, and breathes a little heavier with every crushed window or forsaken building they pass. Harry’s gripping the wheel tightly with one hand, his gun ready in the other one.

There’s a shout somewhere behind them, and Harry stops the car abruptly.  
            “Let’s go,” he murmurs, biting the inside of his lower lip intently. Louis nods quietly, and they step out of the car.

Louis starts walking towards where the sound had come from first, Harry following him closely. Both their guns are up, Louis’ pointing to front and right, Harry’s to back and left.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream sounds, and some men rush out of a building. They halt as they notice Harry and Louis, and ready themselves to gun them.

Louis immediately pushes Harry against the ground, and jumps on top of him. He lets out a long row of bullets, hitting some of the men, making them fall to the ground. Louis’ fast movements confuse the men, giving Harry and Louis time to hide behind a bin.

They crouch there, gathering their breath, waiting for the men to find them. Someone shouts, and running steps come closer to them. After that it’s a haze of screaming, shouting, and shooting.

They fight for their lives, (quite literally), but are desperately outnumbered by the monsters. They manage to guide the men away from their car, so that at least their belongings are safe for the time-being, but are rounded by the men soon.

One of them manages to kick Harry in his stomach, so he stumbles farther off. They round him, pointing their guns so he is forced to move farther away from Louis. Louis notices this, and breaks through their wall immediately, gunning his way to Harry. They fight side-by-side again, but soon enough someone is pulling Louis away.

He does his best, but one of the monsters manages to kick him under his ribs. He falls to the ground, but when he tries to jump up again, something is wrong.

The first indication of something is the pressure on his chest. He’s felt it before, the kind of pressure that comes when you want to cry badly, but the tears won’t fall, so it feels as if it is raining inside you.

What makes him question something serious is the immobility. He cannot move himself, though it seems nothing is wrong with him. He’s not in pain, so he should be able to get back up from where he’s lying. It was only a slight blow, nothing serious. But he can’t move himself, no matter how he struggles.

Finally, he sees the silhouette gliding towards him. Then he knows what’s going to happen. He opens his mouth, and realises it is a mistake the second he can’t scream nor close it again.

The form, a black hovering creature with no visible shape or size crouches over him, covers Louis’ quivering body with its dark being and reaches out a hand to Louis’ chest.

Everything disappears. There is only Louis, and the thing above him, coaxing out his soul into its icy grasp. Louis looks down and sees its palm dissolved into his chest, white ribbons dancing, wrapping around the forearm. Somewhere there is screaming and shooting, but all louis hears is the ringing in his ears, the words he does not apprehend as words, but as music.

 

Harry is standing a mere five feet from Louis when he sees Louis disappear underneath the blackness. He knows he has to stop it, or else Louis will be taken, turned into one of them. There are too many men to fight off, though, and he has to do something quickly.

But the sight spurs him on, as he hears what Louis can’t feel. The scream of all human leaving his body as it is replaced with monster. Harry watches as Louis’ skin dims and greys, and his fingers soften around his gun. There will be no more Louis, Harry thinks, only a monster.

            “I have to protect him,” he mumbles, and guns his attackers ‘til it’s quiet. He runs to the captain of the team, now dead, and searches the body for a particular truncheon. He finds the object with ease, radiating heat. It feels the monster. Then Harry runs like he never has before. He lets out a wild hail and smashes the truncheon on the monster’s head. The monster’s body falls down on top of Louis, and starts seeping black, dense slum where the head was smashed.

Harry sweeps the thing off Louis with his gun, and kneels down beside him. He pulls his head into his lap and cradles his face in his hands, singsonging his name quietly. He knows the monster did not complete its work, for it would have disappeared then, but it is still lying where Harry pushed it.

            “Louis,” a voice is speaking, and a pair of hands stroking his face. Something tells Louis the voice and the hands belong to someone Harry. Then he knows who Harry is, Harry is his protector.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head.  
            “No,” his voice sounds rough and tired, and he feels numb all over.  
            “Louis? Are you-”  
            “No,” Louis repeats, and pushes Harry’s hands off his face. He sits up abruptly, and Harry reaches out, but Louis shakes his head.  
            “W-was I-” he’s stuttering, stumbling through the idea.  
Harry nods, and Louis doesn’t even need to face him to know.

He was almost taken, almost killed. No, not killed, turned into one of the monsters, added to the list of names in their databases.

He wants to scream, wail, collapse in Harry’s arms, be the damsel in distress. He wants to not get up, stay there, have Harry carry him, kiss him, love him until the gap in his chest is replaced. But he cannot, he mustn’t be weak.

So he stands up on wobbly feet, and starts walking away. He leaves his gun behind, knowing Harry will take it.

Harry runs after Louis, grasping both their weapons,  
            “Wait, Lou!”  
Louis shakes his head again, but waits until Harry is next to him. He can’t be too cruel to the boy.  
            “Harry,” he tries his best to sound stern, to let Harry know he wants to be left alone, but it comes out as a plea, a beg for love, for anything.  
Harry lifts Louis’ gun onto his right hand, so his left hand is free, and ghosts his fingertips over the skin on Louis’ cheek. He feels as if there should be something wrong with his skin, as if he should be able to feel what just happened, but he can’t. On the outside, Louis looks the same as he always has. He’s gone from under Harry’s touch within a second.

He is walking in front of Harry now, and Harry thinks about holding him. He thinks about holding him every day of every week, thinks about pushing the world away from them. But he thinks about holding Louis now, especially.

He doesn’t want to hear Louis screaming, though, doesn’t want to hear the whimpering “please don’t, Harry,” he doesn’t want to be torn apart from knowing Louis does not want him.

Their steps echo on the empty street, every sound a clap of thunder, every breath a volcano eruption. Louis breaks into a trot once the car is in sight. Harry follows him warily, and when he arrives Louis is already hidden deep beneath the covers, his eyes glassy in the dim light of the torches.

 

It's silent, then. Louis just lies there, unable to move, barely able to breathe.   
He feels as if everything has been taken from him; and it is not an understatement, for everything has been taken from him.

Harry watches Louis' form shiver visibly, his breaths uneven, quiet sniffles in the stillness. He wants to do something. Embrace him, give the soul they took away back, extract it from himself. Because what is the meaning of harry's soul without Louis'?

Instead, he strips of his kit and lies down next to Louis. As far from him as possible, yet ready to reach out any moment. Louis is still shuddering, but not crying. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and mouths words of consolation to himself.

            “Don’t cry, you’ll be alright” he hears in his head, and he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t cry until he feels fatigue take over. His eyes fall shut soon, his body relaxing, mending the wounds from inside out.

But his brain will not give him peace, and he sees the face of the thing that ate him. The monster that claimed him its own, and would have killed him, had it not been for Harry.

Harry.  
At that Louis feels tears in his eyes. He mouths another consolation, but it’s of no use. Because Harry saved him, Harry killed the monster, bashed in its ghostly skull. And now Harry is lying behind him, silently begging for recognition Louis cannot give him.

He sniffles a breath, wanting to wipe the tears away, but knowing Harry would notice, he stays still.

Harry already notices the sniffle, of course, and the pain under his ribcage threatens to burst out. He has to hold onto the mattress under them to not move and hold him, cuddle him close and whisper against his skin what Louis’ been mouthing to himself, kiss every inch of his broken body and give him back his missing spirit.

Louis smashes his face into the pillow, and wails into it. That’s enough for Harry and despite Louis trembling and shaking his head, Harry crawls closer to him, and pulls his back to his chest.

Neither of them say anything, and for a while Louis’ pale cries muffle harry’s uneven breaths, but soon they end, shaky breaths of his own replacing them. He’s not asleep yet, but he will be, sooner rather than later. They both will.

The last thing Harry feels before unconsciousness is Louis’ smaller hand resting onto his larger one.

 

Harry wakes up slowly. It’s a nice kind of waking up, the room still dark, just a little light seeping through the window-cracks in the walls. Louis is fast asleep, peaceful in his arms. Finally, Harry thinks.

Harry quite literally wiggles his way from where he was wrapped around Louis and sits up. The back of the van’s never been, nor will be, spacey enough for the two of them, but somehow they manage, even with Harry’s obnoxious limbs.

He sits up, stretches his back, and kneels to the peephole in the trapdoor. There’s nothing outside, but still, he locates the nearest weapons before unlocking the door. The sun’s rising, mother earth warming up. He sits with his bare toes curling against the rough asphalt for a little while. Somewhere in the distance a bird is chirping.

All around are empty buildings, forsaken by their people who fled the war years ago. Or where taken, but Harry doesn’t want to think about that. He can’t help it, though, and turns around to look at Louis. He’s pulled the covers tightly around him, hugging the pillow with his left arm.

Harry’s heart skips a beat as he thinks about Louis’ being taken.

As if feeling the stare, his eyes flutter open and he turns to his back. Harry smiles, and climbs back into the vehicle.  Louis raises his head slightly.  
            “Morning,” he grumbles.  
Harry just smiles, and leans his back against the little space not covered in shelves. He brings his knees to his body and rests his arms on them. Louis’ blinking sleepily, the opalescent light painting his skin milky, as he sits up and goes to the open door on all fours. He leans out the gap and frowns. He groans and slips back inside, hiding behind the door so the light misses his eyes.

They sit in a solemn silence for quite a while, and would sit for more, but Harry’s stomach interrupts. It lets out a grumble so loud both chaps burst out in a fit of giggles, Harry’s louder and more outgoing, Louis’ barely audible.  
            “Time for breakfast?” he finally inquires.  
            “Yeah,” Harry drawls and beckons to the cupboard next to Louis’ head. Louis finds them a conserve to share, and notes they need to stock up soon as they dig into the meat. It’s slimy and tastes nasty, but it’s food, and that department never took complaints.

They pull on their clothes and sling their guns over their shoulders, and if Harry’s hand brushes against Louis’ once too much, neither say anything. Because even though Louis convinces himself that when Harry held him last night he was asleep and did it out of habit, and Harry convinces himself Louis does not remember it at all, they both know neither of those things are true.

What’s true is that a few hours later they’re at a campsite, avoiding the others’ gazes, trading food for information. Neither know much more than the people there, but soldiers are always looked after. Sometimes because they are loved and respected, mostly because they are feared.

The children run to their mommas when they arrive, and the grown-ups turn their heads. Neither Harry nor Louis mind, especially today, when they can barely get a smile out of the other themselves.

Then they’re in their car again, picking up the monsters’ radio signals. A few of the humans’ camps have been destroyed, but so have some of the monsters’ towns. Nothing has changed, really. Despite the efforts, the human race still blooms, even if there are less of them every day.

They stop at a spring to wash their clothes.

“D’you wanna take a dip, Lou?” Harry tilts his head to look at Louis, crouching over the water. He shakes his head. They wash and Harry dives into the cool water while Louis scrubs the last of their clothing.

Harry swims a bit off and looks at Louis for the thousandth time that day. Something’s wrong with him, and Harry realises how naive it was to think he’d be fine in just a night. His eyes aren’t gleaming, and he didn’t even utter a word of protest when Harry asked him to wash his clothes. In a normal situation Louis would have complained about cleaning his own.

In a normal situation Harry would have stopped the thing from even trying to take Louis.  
            “Are you gonna stay there forever?” Louis hollers, breaking Harry’s spell. He flounders back to Louis and climbs out. Louis tosses him his underpants and a t-shirt. The scratches and holes are a funny contrast to the whiteness of the material. It’s uncomfortable, but Harry pulls the clothes on his wet body and waits ‘til Louis’ stepped away to shake his hair dry like a dog.

Louis sitting at the stream with his legs crossed, his head resting on his fists. If he could paint, Harry would make this his masterpiece. _Natural Beauty,_ he’d call it. Or at least he’d take a photograph of it. But those actions are all privileges saved for the past. Instead he steps closer to Louis and crouches down.  
            “What are you thinking?”  
 Louis smiles meekly,  
            “This is a beautiful stream.”

Harry turns his head and eyes the water. Louis’ right, it is beautiful. There’s a willow tree on the other bank, bowing over the stream. Some cat’s-tails grow here and there, along with reeds. The sough of the water is a constant background to the wind playing in the tree leaves and the sunlight reflecting off the foaming rush of water.  
            “Not as beautiful as you,” Harry thinks.  
            “What was that?” Louis startles. Harry flushes under Louis’ stare, he hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud.  
            “Nothing, I-I didn’t-” he stumbles through his words, and instead of finishing stands up.  
            “It was nothing.”  
Louis walks to Harry serenely, brushes a wet strand out is face and smiles. He opens his mouth for a moment, but closes it again, presses a chaste kiss onto the corner of his mouth and walks away. He takes the wet clothes he laid to dry onto the rocks and walks back to their van.

Harry follows him dumbfoundedly, grazing the spot Louis’ lips touched.

They walk to the car and spend the rest of the day in silence. No progress comes the next day, nor the day after that, but when Harry hears Louis laughing sincerely over a week later, he thinks he could write odes.

Like a sunflower in bad conditions, Louis blooms and withers in almost continuous periods of time. Happy for a day or two, down again for three. Harry basks in the happy days, when Louis laughs and acts almost like his old self.

They avoid all people they see on the streets nowadays, afraid someone could be a monster, or realise Louis’ a victim and Louis’ made it clear he doesn’t need nor want their commiseration. If anything, Harry’s arms around him at night and a gentle kiss here and there keep him going, but that’s all he gives himself.

He’s harsh with himself, but only because that’s the one thing he knows he’s always been, and it gives him some kind of substance, something to hold on to. Because he rarely knows who he is anymore, and doing something that he’s always done, even, if under the circumstances it isn’t the best idea, helps him.

It’s after a bad day with splendid weather that Louis’ sitting on the corner of their mattress, legs pulled up to his chin, silently watching Harry read a book. Harry looks up from his pages every once in a while, gazes around the dim room or gives Louis a concerned look. Louis hasn’t said almost anything the whole day, only mumbling something under his breath or answering Harry’s questions with “yes” or “no.”

When Harry hears Louis sniffle, he looks up again, more intent on Louis now. He’s pouting, and Harry knows the face. It’s the face he pulls before crying.  
So Harry lays his book down on a shelf and motions for Louis.  
            “Oh, come here.”

Louis looks at him as if startled, and shakes his head slightly. Harry opens his arms and smiles as lovingly, invitingly as possible. Louis keeps shaking his head, but involuntarily crawls to Harry, resting his forehead on the man’s arm.  
            “Harry,” he murmurs, and a dagger breaks its way through Harry’s heart.  
They sit, Louis’ face pressed tightly against Harry’s arm, neither saying anything for ages.  
Then Harry opens his mouth,  
            “You know, I can only try to imagine what you’re feeling, Lou.” he cards a hand through his hair, “So, you know, I’m sorry if I, mess up, or anything.”  
Louis looks up at him again, smiles, the crinkles that form by his eyes letting his tears fall, then squeezes his face back against Harry’s arm.

            “It’s just hard, you know. It’s like i don’t know who i am anymore,” Louis sniffles.  
            “I’m just so,” he sits back, not touching Harry, “Empty. I see everything around me, I see people dying, and I see you hurting, but I just- It doesn’t affect me, Harry.”  
He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and sighs.  
            “And- It does affect me, but not the way it should,” he breathes in sharply, his hands still covering his face.  
            “It’s okay, Louis. I mean, you were almost-” Harry opens his arms, gesturing what he daren’t say. Louis looks at Harry, and shakes his head. They sit in silence a few more moments, until Louis clambers back to Harry. He raises his arm over his shoulder and tucks it around his waist. Harry smiles, the kindness in his eyes coaxing a smile out of Louis’ bitten lips, too. Louis tucks his head under his neck and presses a kiss beneath his ear.

Harry holds him close, prodding his fingers under Louis’ shirt, stroking the warm flesh there. Louis walks his fingers up Harry’s chest, scratches at his stubble. He noses at his neck, then bites at his skin gently. Harry giggles and turns his head away.  
            “It tickles!”

Louis shrugs, and goes back to Harry’s neck, this time to press kisses to his collarbones. He moves around on top of Harry and straddles his lap. He pulls his face from underneath Harry’s chin and looks at him.

Harry moves both his hands up Louis’ waist, pulling his shirt up slightly while Louis slides his own hands up Harry’s jaw until he’s cupping his face. Finally, he moves down and presses his lips against Harry’s. They kiss, licking into each other’s mouths slowly. Harry trails his hands higher and higher until Louis has to raise his hands in order to let harry take off his shirt.

Harry kisses down Louis neck to his collarbones, gnawing at the frail skin. He pulls away and looks up at Louis,  
            “Can I?” he signs towards the head of the mattress. Louis nods, and whimpers an almost inaudible “yeah.”  
Harry raises Louis’ body slightly off himself and moves them onto the bed. He sits them down in the middle, takes Louis’ head into his hands and kisses him once more. Louis fists Harry’s shirt into his hand, pulling Harry closer. Harry detaches himself from Louis for a moment and pulls his shirt off.

He moves back to kissing, more thoroughly this time. He pulls on Louis’ bottom lip, but moves to his jaw, soon. He kisses up to Louis’ ear, then down his neck to his shoulder. He’s kissing down his chest, slowly pushing him onto the bed, when Louis stops him.  
            “Harry, wait.”  
Harry raises his head, and brushes his thumb over his cheek,  
            “What’s wrong? Do you want me to stop?”  
Louis shakes his head,  
            “No, I just- I- only want this if you do.”  
He looks like he’s on the verge of tears, and Harry leans in to press his lips against Louis’. He doesn’t kiss him, just speaks against his mouth,  
            “Of course I want this, Louis. I want you.”  
            “No, I just,” Louis turns his head to the side, “I need to know you love me.”  
            “Oh,” Harry moves Louis’ head so he’s looking at him again, “Darling, beautiful Louis, I love you,” he kisses the words into Louis’ skin, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”  
Louis smiles slowly, and nods then,  
            I love you, too, Harry.”  
Harry kisses Louis’ one more time and he finally lies down. Harry strokes his hands down his stomach and squeezes his sides. He presses another kiss to Louis’ lips, then crawls down his body; pressing a kiss every few inches down his stomach. He opens the button of Louis’ trousers and pulls down the zipper.  
            “Up,” he ushers Louis to raise his hips, letting Harry pull his trousers down. He pulls them off and throws them to the side. Moving back up his stomach, Harry kisses his hipbone just above the waistband of his boxers.  
He sucks and bites on the skin lightly, sinking his teeth into the flesh then licking over it. Louis lets out a quiet moan that urges Harry on to press his palm against the forming bulge in his boxers. His mouth opens slightly as Harry rubs his cock through his pants.

When he thinks Louis’ hard enough, Harry lets his hand travel lower, to his balls first, and gradually under his bum. He gives it a squeeze then slips his fingers underneath the waistband.  
He looks at Louis, searching for consent in his face, and seeing he’s looking down at him, eyes blown, mouth open, he starts pulling Louis’ pants off slowly. He drags them over his ass, revelling in the way the material slides off the curve of it.

He pulls them off all the way, and sits back, leaning onto his toes. Louis’ legs are spread, his knees pulled up. His head’s thrown to the side, eyes closed, waiting for Harry to do something.

Harry thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. To have Louis like that, bare and willing, giving himself to Harry completely makes him want to do unspeakable things to the boy. Then again it makes him want to hold him close; “love him ‘til the stars fall from the sky.”

He unbuttons his own trousers and pulls them off, leaving his boxers on at first. Sliding his hands up Louis’ shins then down his thighs he kneels between his legs. He presses a kiss to Louis’ chest and licks downwards, circling both his nipples and moving on to his hips and thighs, deliberately ignoring his erection laid thick on his belly.

Harry squeezes Louis’ thighs, and sucks a mark where his leg ends and crotch begins. That gets a small noise from Louis, encouraging Harry to move closer to his cock, until he takes it into his hand and kisses up the side. He suckles on the tip lightly, making Louis gasp from the sudden heat, but moves down again, and licks over his balls.

Louis’ breathing heavily now, twining one hand into Harry’s hair, pulling on it as Harry sucks the underside of his balls, just above his ass.

Harry pulls his face away, and looks at his hole. He jabs a finger to Louis’ crack, and starts trailing it downwards, all the while kissing Louis’ left thigh gently. He lets his finger rub over his hole, making Louis breathe out a bare moan and wiggle his arse down.  
            “You’re so tight, Lou, I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry explains against Louis’ skin. Louis whines quietly in his throat, and pushes down onto where Harry’s finger is touching him. Harry giggles at how needy Louis’ being, and throws his legs over his shoulders.  
            “Okay, okay,” he murmurs, takes his finger off Louis’ hole and presses a kiss against it instead. Louis tenses up, inhaling sharply, but once Harry soothes his thumbs over his thighs relaxes again. Harry moves back to his arse, this time licking a strip over his rim, pressing his tongue against it slightly. He moves his tongue in quick motions, wetting Louis’ hole. He starts thrusting his tongue in and out of his body slowly, wetting the walls and stretching him gently.

Finally, still keeping his tongue on Louis’ rim, Harry presses his middle finger into Louis, making him gasp at the feeling of something firmer in him. Harry licks around his finger a few more times, then pulls his head back.

He sits back, moving the finger at a slow pace, and looks at Louis. His cheeks are tinted red, eyes hazy as he looks up at Harry. He closes them again, biting his lip as Harry gently prods his index finger against his hole. He finally pushes it in, and Louis lets out a sigh as if he’d been holding his breath.

Thrusting his fingers in and out of Louis at a faster pace now, Harry leans down to Louis’ face and kisses him. He smiles against his mouth as Louis lets out a welp when Harry changes the angle. He hits the spot again, knowing he’s found Louis’ prostate. With each thrust, Louis whines out a quiet “uh,” driving Harry on to push in his third finger. He’s moving fast now, scratching against Louis’ walls and hitting his prostate every now and then. He scissors his fingers, stretching Louis up.

Louis’ moaning quietly, holding onto the bed sheet under him. Harry thrusts his fingers a few more times and stills then.  
            “D’you think you’re ready, baby?”  
            “Mhm,” Louis sighs and nods hastily.

Harry presses another kiss to Louis’ lips, and pulls his fingers out. He pulls his underpants off while sitting back and takes Louis legs in his hands, raising them over his shoulders once more. Louis locks them around Harry’s neck, and looks up at Harry with lustrous eyes. Harry spits onto his hand, internally cursing the lack of lubrication he has, and rubs it over his cock.

He can’t help but sigh at the friction his hand gives as he rubs his hand over his erection, slicking it up as much as possible.  
Finally, he moves closer to Louis and presses the tip of his cock against Louis’ hole. They both close their eyes, and Louis squeezes the bed sheets more tightly as Harry begins pressing in, at a slow but steady pace.

Louis lets out a quiet breath, and Harry stops for a moment, looking at Louis. Louis opens his eyes and shakes his head slightly,  
            “Wait.”  
Harry feels him unclench around him, and raises his eyebrows at Louis expectantly. Louis gives a small nod and Harry pushes in the last few inches.

When he’s all the way inside Louis, balls snug against his arse, he leans a bit lower, almost folding Louis legs against his body. He rests a hand on either side of Louis’ head and begins ever so slowly pulling out of him.

He pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back into him, harder this time. He’s moving his hips in a smooth rhythm soon, sliding in and out of louis gently.

Louis’ panting quietly, holding onto Harry’s shoulders and moving his body with his. As Harry quickens his movements, Louis’ moans grow louder and he moves his body along, meeting Harry’s thrusts halfway.

He lets out a loud whine as Harry hits a spot inside him, and squeezes Harry’s shoulders with both hands.  
            “Do that- Again,” he breathes, and Harry grabs the pillow underneath Louis’ head, snapping his hips hard against the spot. Louis’ letting out sinful, small groans with each thrust, and that only urges Harry on to go faster and harder.

He moves away from Louis, sits back and grabs his legs wrapped around his neck. He takes on in each hand, and grasping them tightly starts pounding into Louis, letting pleasure take over. Louis throws his head back and fists the bed sheet desperately.

He lets out another moan and looks up at Harry.  
            “Touch me, fuck, I need-”  
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence when Harry lets go of one of his legs, wraps his hand around his cock and strokes his hand in time with his thrusts.

Keeping his hand on his cock and pounding in and out of him, Harry leans down again, this time pinning Louis’ legs tightly against his chest, and kisses him. He licks over Louis’ lips, and finally growls lowly,  
            “Come, Louis.”

Louis lets go with a loud shout of Harry’s name, and spills white all over Harry’s hand and both their stomachs.

Harry watches as Louis’ eyes shut tight and his mouth falls open as he chants Harry’s name over and over, falling lax beneath him. He bites his lip and clutches underneath Louis’ knees tightly enough to leave five small marks on each leg. He closes his eyes and feels Louis tighten around him, and tenses up then, spilling his orgasm deep into Louis’ body. He curses and grunts Louis’ name, pulling out of him, his cock still dribbling out sperm. He lets go of Louis’ legs slowly, and groaning his name one more time, collapses on top of the smaller man.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Harry’s forehead resting against Louis’ shoulder, Louis’ sweaty chest rising and falling under him.  
            “’Re heavy, Haz.” he finally mutters, and Harry gathers the strength to roll to the side, freeing Louis from his grip.

Louis turns his head, and smiles at Harry, who turns to Louis’ and smiles back.  
            “What?” he drawls, his voice slow and sticky. Louis giggles, feeling surprisingly energetic, and moves his whole body so it faces Harry.  
            “You’re cute after sex, I like that.”  
Harry frowns, and shakes his head wearily. He makes grabby hands at Louis and Louis rolls over his side, so his head falls onto Harry’s chest. Harry pulls on Louis so most of his body weight is on Harry, and pinches his side,  
            “You’re always cute, LouLou,” he smirks and noses at Louis’ hair.

Louis hides his face in Harry’s chest, and murmurs something. Harry cards a finger through his fringe, calming down his obnoxious sex hair. Louis looks up at Harry condescendingly,  
            “I said,” he scratches Harry’s chest, “You’re being stupid.”  
            “Okay,” Harry admits defeat.

He presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head, and pulls him closer. Just as he’s about to settle for a nap, he frowns and raises his head. He lets go of Louis for a moment and pats around the mattress with his hands.  
            “Aha,” he finally goes and victoriously pulls the blanket on top of them, Louis looking at him the whole time with a fond expression on his face. When Harry’s arms wrap around him once again he sighs contentedly and nudges his face against Harry’s neck. Harry smoothes his hand down his side and rests it on his hip.

They lie like that, not asleep, but not saying anything, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort until,  
            “Fuck.”  
Louis pushes the blanket off him and sits up. Harry raises his eyebrows,  
            “What’s wrong?”  
Louis scrambles to a shelf, and pulls out a towel. He sighs and grimaces at Harry,  
            “Come, young Harold. It’s horrible when it dries.”  
            “Oh, I get it, yeah,” Harry sits up too, and once Louis’ finished wiping himself off cleans his stomach, too. “You’re right, I forgot.”

They’re lying as they were before, and Louis’ almost asleep, when Harry suddenly pinches his side.  
            “What’s that for?” Louis picks his eyes, swallowing his yawn.  
Harry smirks down at him, giggling soundlessly.  
            “Don’t call me young Harold.”  
Louis smacks Harry’s chest and closes his eyes again,  
            “Idiot,” he mutters before falling asleep.

The next day drags on for a week. Louis utters not one word, and Harry thinks he has messed up for good. Three days later they go to a campsite. Louis’ mother and sisters are there, and Harry feels serenity descend over his heart like a blanket of snow over the ground in December. He understands Louis is happier with his family than he ever could be with Harry, after what happened.

A man tells him about a rumour of a place up North where no monsters live, and that is safe. Another man tells him it’s a trap, the rumour being planted by the monsters to gather humans there.

Harry leaves the two men fighting in search of Louis.  
He knows now what he’s going to do. He is going to go off alone, leave Louis here, where he feels safe and happy, where he is home.

He finds Louis in front of his house, playing with two of his younger sisters. Harry stays farther off, for a moment, admiring Louis. The way he cuddles his sisters, laughing with them, only assures Harry leaving Louis is the right thing to do.

He finally steps closer, and clears his throat. Louis startles, and looks up at him. His smile stays as it was, but Harry notices the nuance of darkness in his eyes. He prays it isn’t there because of Harry.

            “Hey, Harry,” Louis pushes his sisters off him, and stands up, “What’s up?”  
Harry beckons behind the hut with his head,  
            “Can we talk for a bit?”  
Louis nods seriously, and holds out his hand,  
            “Sure.”

Harry leads them behind the hut, enough distance from the girls, so they can’t hear. He holds both of Louis’ hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over Louis’ palms gently, looking down at them  
            “I need to tell you, that,” he catches Louis’ eyes in his and sinks in closer to his face, “I’m leaving, Lou.”  
Louis frowns, and shrugs barely,  
            “So? I wasn’t expecting to stay here much longer, anyway. I mean, hey,” he lets go of Harry’s hand and nudges his shoulder lightly, “We’ve got a race to save!”  
Harry takes his hand in his again and squeezes it,  
            “You don’t understand, Louis. You’re staying here, I’m going alone.”  
Louis’ frown, that had already disappeared, forms on his face again, as he takes a step away from Harry.  
            “What are you talking about? Why would I stay here?”  
Harry follows Louis’ step, crowding into his space again,  
            “You’re safe here.”  
Louis opens his mouth to protest, but Harry continues before he can,  
            “It’s not even that, I know you don’t like that talk. It’s just that, you’re happy here, I can see it. And after what happened,” he grimaces, “It’s better that way. And now that I know you’re here, I mean, I can come back every once in a while, and we can be together, and-”  
            “What are you talking about?” Louis repeats himself, interrupting Harry. He lets go of both Harry’s hands, and crosses his arms over his chest.  
            “I’m not letting you go just like that, Harry. What happened to me has nothing to do with this, okay? Nothing here could make me feel any better than anything you could do. It’ll be the same, whether or not I stay here or go with you makes no difference.”

Harry looks at him, worry pumping from his heart through the capillaries in his eyes into his irises, sparing out from there.  
            “But Louis, you haven’t been this happy in ages.”  
He pushes his hair out of his face, then rests his hand on Louis shoulder and squeezes it lightly.  
            “I just want you to be happy.”  
Louis smiles wistfully, and touches Harry’s hand on his shoulder for a moment, before letting his hand fall to his side again.  
            “Harry, you have to understand. Happiness is not something one can be, it is something one can feel. I will feel happy with you, and I will feel happy here, with my family. But if I stay here, I will know you’re alone somewhere, fighting for all of us. My mother will be disappointed in me, thinking I failed my soldier duty. That makes two people feeling unhappy, even when I am happy.  
            “If I come with you, I will feel just as happy as I would be here. My mother will feel happy, knowing her son is doing what she always had wanted him to do. You will feel happy, because we’re together. That makes all of us feeling happy. Now which is the better option?”  
He cradles Harry’s face in his hands for a moment, then pinches both his cheeks,  
            “And you know what? None of that really matters, because I know I want to come with you, okay? And that means I’m coming with you, obviously.”

Harry laughs at that. The whole package deal, wiping tears and slapping thighs, he’s doubled over himself, clutching his stomach, positively leering.

Louis stands with hands on his hips, gaping at him, annoyed.  
            “What’s so funny? I’m not kidding, you idiot.”  
Harry stands up, wiping the last tears from the corners of his eyes, and envelopes himself around Louis, pressing him against his chest harshly.  
            “I know, dear, was laughing at myself. Only myself.”  
Louis chuckles against his chest and wraps his arms around his body.  
            “You really are an idiot.”  
Harry squeezes him once more, then backs away, holding onto Louis’ arms.  
            “You love it, though.”  
Louis keeps chuckling. He mumbles “I love you,” and Harry stops laughing, but keeps smiling for the rest of the day.

 

They leave that night. Louis’ good the day after that, and a bit worse after that. Then he’s fine again, for about a week. It’s his record, and Harry couldn’t be happier. It fades here and there, like an old bouquet of roses, rusty and old, but beautiful, still.  They’re fine, in the long run.

It is late-July or early-August, they don’t know. Harry’s driving, Louis napping in the passenger seat. It’s been a tiring, dreadful day.

Harry remembers giving his mother flowers when she had been sad, so he stops the car in the middle of the road to gather flowers, when he sees them on the side of the road. Louis’ fast asleep, and Harry’s glad he is. He wants it to be a surprise, after all.

He collects what he can find, unaware of the sorts or names of the flowers. There are tiny blue ones, and yellow ones, quite large. He finds a few red ones, and a lilac one here and there. Once he thinks the bouquet is large enough he ties them together with a stalk.

He goes back into the car, laying the flowers onto the dashboard, pecking Louis on the cheek. Louis wakes an hour later, grumpy, but generally glad. He notices the flowers in front of him, and questions what they’re for.

            “When my mum felt bad, I’d get her flowers,” Harry smiles at him through the rear-view mirror, “And you felt bad, so I figured you might like some flowers.”  
Louis laughs, the loudest and most cheerful he’s laughed in days, and Harry can’t help but grin for quite much longer than necessary.

They drive in silence, Louis rolling down his window, leaning out his head. Harry almost stops him, always looking out for him, but the smile Louis has as the wind thrashes against his face restrains him.

He pulls his head in, and rolls the window half-way closed, giggling quietly. Harry reaches out his hand, and pulls Louis’ small palm to his lips. He kisses his knuckles, and keeps holding his hand,  
            “You’re happy.”  
Louis shrugs.  
            “I suppose so.”  
            “Good,” Harry lets go of Louis hand, but smiles to himself.

About an hour later Louis asks Harry if they’re still headed north. Harry nods, saying there’s not much reason to stay where they are anyway. They speak about the chances of it being a trap, but come to the conclusion they have nothing to lose.

They’ve just finished the matter when Louis takes the – surprisingly, still fresh – flowers from the dashboard, and unbinds them.  
            “What’re you doing?” Harry frowns, thinking Louis’ about to throw them out.  
Louis only smirks,  
            “You’ll see.”

He takes two flowers, and holds them from the blossoms. Then he begins winding other flowers onto the stems, binding them into a circle. He’s humming to himself, wreathing a flower crown between his fingers.

Harry keeps his eyes on the road, and barely notices when Louis lays a ready flower crown back onto the dashboard. He examines it with intent eyes, then takes it and gently puts it on Harry’s hair, instead.

Harry looks at himself through the rear-view mirror and raises his eyebrows at Louis. Louis turns his head, opening the window fully again. He leans his elbow onto the window frame, and rests his head on his fist.

            “Why’d you give me the crown?” Harry asks after a while.  
Louis looks at him for a moment, then turns back to the window.  
            “Because you’re my king,” he sighs, “My flower-king.”  
Harry chuckles,  
            “What are you then?”  
Louis doesn’t answer him, but after a while, Harry answers his own question.  
            “You’re my lionheart, then.”  
Neither of them say anything after that.

Birds are chirping outside, nursing their new-born babies. The world is green and windy, and so very, very alive. Louis closes his eyes, and breathes in it all. For the first time since being taken, hell, since leaving home, he thinks he is very, very much alive, too. And Harry watches Louis: breathing, his chest rising and falling, eyelashes fluttering, hair flying in the air-flow, and thinks that if Louis’ alive, then so is he.

Because just as Zayn started, and Niall worded, and Liam agreed,

Louis is Harry’s saviour,  
and Harry is Louis’ protector.

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget, kudos are my oxygen and comments are my water!! thank you for reading, i hope you have a wonderful life!!  
> [my blog](http://guccifloral.tumblr.com)


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